The TV was on, but no one was watching it. Cacophonous and silent. The slow tapping of the rain on the window was rhythmically hypnotizing, and the soft glow of a floor lamp filled the room. Jackson might have been in the room, but he was not really there.
Life was a whirlwind. “When did we stop the dress rehearsal and start the show?” At 28, he encountered one of his first true self-realizations … a sneaking suspicion that there had to be something more or that he’d missed some big chance.
He signed up to be in control, and it seemed like he was playing someone else’s game.
The lights go out and the rain stops.
Given the rolling blackouts reported throughout the metro area, the change in environment was dramatic, though not unexpected. In the dark and the quiet, he thought about Kennedy.
It had been five years since he saw her get on a plane headed for anywhere and four and a half since her static-riddled happy birthday message tape was eaten by the answering machine the day after she left it. Between her endearing non-sequiturs, she talked about finding herself and looking for God. Or maybe finding God and looking for herself.
He hated that he couldn’t remember.
The tone of the message was still etched into Jackson’s brain, though. She had her own special way of smiling when she talked and he knew that she loved him, even if she ran out of pocket change for the pay phone before she could say so.
